Lone Wanderer: Life of the Wastes
by Limizuki
Summary: Anya  female lone wanderer  Finds herself in the Muddy Rudder..an unexpected pain in the ass happens to be there as well. Rated M for a reason. ButchxAnya, read and review please
1. Wasteland Pains

**Butch x F!/LW**

**Fallout 3, Butch, Dogmeat, etc belong to Bethesda. Anya is my own creation**

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><p>She went by many names, Lone Wanderer, Princess of the Wasteland, Bitch Who Ruined Our Lives. But she preferred her given name, her birth name, Anya. Granted, she didn't mind Lone Wanderer all that much because that <em>was<em> what she was after all. The only issue is that she didn't choose to be alone. Not initially, but her quests had proven too heinous to keep companions around, all except the dog she found outside the scrap yard. He sat next to her now in the Muddy Rudder, staring up at her with endlessly black eyes. His breed was unknown to her, since she never knew dogs had existed, but he was a beautiful chocolate brown color and had flopped over ears. His frame was lithe and sturdy, muscles well toned. She had almost shot the poor beast when she first saw him bounding towards her with Raiders at his heels. If dogs had heels. It turned out that he was running _away _from the Raiders, and if she hadn't found them to be more threatening, he wouldn't be her companion today. The crudely made bandage was still wrapped around his foreleg, from when he charged the Raiders, and Anya had to chastise him every time he tried to rip the offending fabric off. She made a mental note to change it whenever she came across some extra fabric…or extra caps.

She dug through the pockets of her armoring, looking for some caps to pay for another drink, but found none. Great, how else was she supposed to drink her sorrows away? Should she explain to the bartender that her father had just practically committed suicide so the Enclave couldn't get his life's work? She sighed and screeched her bar stool back when another drink was thrust in front of her. She blinked at it before looking up to the owner of the hand still holding it.

"You look like you need it," the woman said. Anya took the tankard and sipped at the ale. It had a nice taste, but not nearly enough alcohol, but she wasn't complaining. It gave her mind something to focus on. The woman watched Anya expectantly while wiping the countertop with a dirty rag.

"Thank you, Miss Belle," Anya said, taking another swig of the sharply sweet ale. Belle, the bar maiden, shrugged.

"Don't thank me, the gentleman in the back bought it for you," she said, walking back to the kitchen window to deliver the order that just finished. Anya stared for a second, processing what she had said before slowly turning to see who this person was. Steel flagon in hand, she completed her slow dramatic turn and nearly dropped the stein.

"You're not lookin' so hot, Bambi," the familiar voice said.

"Butch. How many times will I have to tell you to stop calling me that?" Anya said, adding a bit of venom in her voice. He was the last person she expected to see, and the last person she wanted to see. Their love/hate relationship went all the way back into their childhood, and some of the things he had said and done to her were not easily forgotten….or forgiven.

"Infinity plus one, sweet cheeks," he said, plastering a cocky smile on his face. Anya groan and turned back, no longer desiring the drink he had bought her.

"What're you doing here anyway," she said quietly, not expecting him to hear. She jumped as his melodious voice sounded right next to her.

"Well, after you blew up the vault's reactor, I explored the new world. Amata went batshit crazy that you killed her father and destroyed her home. She's out here too, you know, looking for a place in the world like the rest of us," he said. His words stung, but Anya didn't want to give him that pleasure ever again.

"How did you find me," she said, clunking her forehead down onto the bar counter.

"Well, I was wandering the wasted, learning how to do trading from some caravan when I found this place. I thought it was pretty cool and stayed for a while. I was just here havin' lunch when lo and behold, my savior walks in," he said, slight sarcasm in his voice. She glared at him from under her silvery bangs and the motion made his grin even wider. He just loved to torture her, didn't he?

"Well, too bad for you, your 'savior' has some other people to save. Bye, Butch. Don't follow me, it's too dangerous for you," she said, sliding her stool all the way back and standing to leave. He caught her wrist and she wrenched it from his grip on reflex, combat knife out and rose within seconds. She stopped herself before she planted it into his face and dropped her arm limply to her side, gripping the knife tightly. "Sorry," she muttered at his astonished expression.

"Bambi's not so fragile anymore, now, is she?" Butch said that stupid smirk back on his face. It took all of Anya's self control to not raise her knife at him again. Dogmeat growled softly in response to her anger and stood between her and Butch.

"The hell is this thing?" He said, inspecting the beast.

"It's a dog, Butch, and I'd suggest you leave him be. Those teeth are sharper than they look, and he's faster than you'll ever be," Anya said, voice a dangerous tone. Butch raised his hands, palms facing her in a submissive manner.

"I don't mean no harm, just curious is all," he said. Anya turned to leave, this time he let her.

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><p>Later that night, Anya found herself once more camped out in the wilderness. She lay on her back, staring up at the sky. The stars were unbelievably visible, and she marveled at them. She had never seen anything like it until a few years ago when she first emerged from that blasted vault. She inhaled the crisp, cool air and coughed at the radiation that still polluted the air. She sat up and prepared her camp, rolling out her battered bed roll and arranging her thin blankets atop it. Once finished with that task, she gathered materials to make a fire and had mole rat meat roasting in no time. She tore off large strips of meat and gave them to her companion, and watched as he took them delicately between his paws and tore off smaller bits to eat.<p>

"Such manners for a mongrel," she said affectionately. She scratched him behind his big floppy ears and leaned back with her own meal. She didn't have much of an appetite, but she knew the wastes were unforgiving on the hungry. She forced the greasy meal down and tossed the remains into the decaying bushes just outside of camp.

Dogmeat growled, and seconds after, a branch snapped somewhere off to the left. Anya drew out the combat knife hidden in her boot and stood at the ready. She was just about to pounce on the intruder when an all too familiar voice filled the night air with a string of curses.

"Butch, what the hell are you doing out here?" Anya said, replacing the knife back in its sheath. She stood facing him, with her arms crossed across her chest. He stepped out from behind some dying trees, holding his left arm away from the fire light at an awkward angle.

"Ok, ya caught me. I was following you, I wanted to go on my own little adventure and see how long I could track you without you noticing. I forgot to include that mutt over there in the equation though," he said, stopping his progress a few feet in front of her. Anya's reprimand was stopped short by the blood dripping down over his gloved hand.

"What'd you manage to do this time?" She grumbled.

"Nah, this is nothing, just got into a scuffle with a Raider that surprised me," He said, putting on a show of toughness. Anya sighed and reached for his arm, shooting him a glare when a cocky grin spread across his face, the grin that says 'You can't resist the Butch-man'. She removed his hand from his shoulder and sucked in a breath. His tunnel snake jacket was in shreds, along with his vault uniform. She directed him to sit by the fire so she could have more light to see by, and saw that it was worse than he had let on.

"A single Raider did this? Jesus, what kind of weapon did he have?" She mumbled to herself.

"A combat shotgun." Anya stared, waiting for him to say that he was joking. When he looked away, she knew he wasn't.

"You're lucky his aim was horrible, or it could've killed you. You're also lucky that I managed to swipe some surgical supplied from Rivet City," she said, bending low over his arm. She peeled back bits of his shredded jacket and felt him flinch.

"Sorry," she muttered, much in the same manner as before. "I'm going to need to clean it, but doing so by moonlight is difficult," she said, figuring out which eddy of purified water was closest. She drug him to his feet and led him to the river that lay just south of her camp, grabbing her surgical kit from her bag along the way. She told Dogmeat to stay and watch over camp and nearly had her heart broken by the dejected look he gave her. She had to give Butch credit, though. He didn't complain all the way to the river like she thought he would. Anya directed him to sit on a large boulder next to the river as she went to wet several cloths. He watched her quietly, and several times she caught him eyeing her body. She blushed under his scrutiny, thankful for the darkness that surrounded them.

"So what now?" He asked, his voice strained.

"The jacket and jumpsuit top have to come off," she said, laying out forceps and a scalpel. She didn't think the scalpel would be needed, but it was always a good idea to have just in case. He grunted his consent and proceeded to peel the shredded fabric from his flesh. She could see that his jaw was clenched and could say that she honestly felt bad for him. She had been shot many times, but never by buckshot from a shotgun. It always did the most damage, and most people never survived the wounds. He was indeed lucky that he didn't get a chest full of lead and that it barely nicked his side and arm.

She turned to him when he was done and couldn't help but admire his well sculpted bronze skin. His abdomen was covered in sinewy muscle and there was a line of dark hair that trailed from his stomach and disappeared beneath the hem of his trousers. Anya wrenched her eyes upward and a worried expression crossed her face. Butch was pale and clearly in pain. She went to his side and cleaned the wound as best as she could, feeling him tense every so often under her touch.

"There's only two BBs still embedded in your arm it looks like, but the rest seemed to have gone completely through. I'm going to have to dig them out so the lead won't kill you," she said, looking up at his strained expression.

"Just get the damned things outta me, Bambi," he said, voice rough. She nodded curtly and pulled out several stimpaks, injecting him above and below the wounds. Much of his tension subsided as the medicine raced through his blood stream, acting as a sort of morphine.

"Well, I'm not going to be gentle," she warned and dug the forceps into an entry wound. He sucked in a breath and held it, his muscles re-clenching. Anya was able to get the first BB out with no issue, and within seconds was on to the remaining one. "Almost done," she said in a singsong voice as she dug into the second hole ruthlessly.

"Shit, Bambi," he gasped and clenched his right hand into a white-knuckled fist. She pulled the BB out and tossed it into the river.

"Alright, alright, they're all gone. But sit still, I still have more of the wound to clean and then I have to bandage it," Anya said, already working on cleaning the cuts. He obeyed and sat still as much as a wounded man could. In no time, she had the wound cleaned and dressed. Butch was inspecting the sleeve of his tunnel snake jacket in dismay and draped it over his good shoulder with a sigh.

"Guess the Tunnel Snakes are no more anyway, since we're not in the vault anymore," he muttered as he stood and stalked back to camp. He stopped a few feet away and turned back to Anya, "You comin' Ba- er…Anya?"

Anya looked up and had a snide remark about to roll off her tongue, but the sincere look on his face stopped her. In that moment, he wasn't the childhood bully she loved to hate. He was a man with nothing more to lose, a Lone Wanderer just like herself.

"I..uh..I need to clean this all up so we don't get any Deathclaws in camp tonight," she said, turning back to her work. She dunked her tools into the water and shook them around, trying to get his blood off them.

"Do you need any help?" He asked.

"No, you need to rest. You've lost a lot of blood. Go back to camp, Dogmeat will watch over you," she replied.

"Dogmeat? The hell kinda name is that?" Butch said. Anya shrugged and shook the excess water from her tools. She heard Butch stomp back to camp and soon followed suit. By the time she got back, he had set up his own bedroll and blankets on the opposite side of the fire from her. He appeared to be asleep, but she wouldn't know for sure unless she checked…which she wasn't about to do. Anya settled into her own bedding and noticed that her old, hole filled blanket had been replaced by a newer one. She looked around for it and found a doggy bed fashioned from the old blanket and smiled. Dogmeat laid on it with his head on Butch's pillow. Anya soon fell asleep with that sight in her mind.

* * *

><p>Anya woke with a start. Last night's nightmares faded into nothingness in the pre-dawn light. She pushed strands of her silvery hair out of her face and looked around. Camp was undisturbed, save for Butch sitting across the fire, cautiously watching her. He had a pot hanging over the fire and was stirring whatever was inside.<p>

"Lotta thrashing coming from you last night, made it difficult to sleep. But I supposed my arm woulda kept me up all night anyway," he said. Something was different, and it took Anya a few minutes to realize what it was. Butch's dark hair wasn't slicked back like it normally was, and instead fell nicely into his greenish-blue eyes. Anya blinked a couple times, causing Butch to look over his shoulders in bewilderment.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing," she said, pushing the blankets off her. She wandered off and did her morning routine and returned to the river to wash her face. She supposed he must've done the same and not bothered to put his hair back up. She sauntered back to camp and took a good sniff. Whatever he was cooking, it smelled heavenly.

"Thanks for the blanket, by the way, I guess being nice doesn't kill you after all. What're you cooking?" she said, flopping down beside Dogmeat and avoiding his gaze.

"Just a stew," was all he said. He continued watching her, his expression unreadable. She could tell he wanted to say something, but he held back for whatever reason. After too many minutes of the silent observations, she had enough.

"What, Butch? What is SO fascinating that you just _have _to sit there and stare at me like that?" She said, exasperated. She reached over and pulled dogmeat to her, scratching his ears to occupy her hands and eyes.

"You said my name, when you were dreamin'. You asked for me to help you. It was kinda spooky. What were you dreamin' of?" He said, almost reverently. Anya paused in her task and stared into the fire.

"My father," she said, remembering that she had been crying out to Butch, knowing it was nightmare. She had wanted him to wake her up. Butch seemed to only grow more confused.

"Your father? That no-good deserter? He abandoned us, abandoned you, turned our lives upside down and you're dreamin' of him? Why?" He said, his voice tight with anger. Without realizing it, Anya had stood and was screaming at him.

"You're an insufferable asshole! He died for what he believed in, gave his life so the bad guys wouldn't take his life's work! Everything was almost destroyed and all you can do is sit here and…and call him a _traitor_? Fuck you, Butch. Just _fuck you_." She was shaking with rage, and if she didn't turn away now, she was going to hurtle herself at him to wrap her hands around his neck. He stared at her, dumbfounded, eyes wide.

"Anya, I'm sorry, I didn't know…" he said, looking properly ashamed. Anya clenched her fists and closed her eyes, willing her anger to drop a few levels. He didn't know, he couldn't have known, she told herself. Not his fault. At the time, yes, it had felt like her father had abandoned everything. But now that she was part of Project Purity, she knew differently. But Butch didn't, and she had no right to abuse his innocence. Tears threatened to fall as she sat back down and clutched her knees to her chest.

For a while, nothing was said. The stew had finished cooking and Butch proffered two crudely made stone bowls and spoons. He dished the stew out evenly and went to sit by her, holding out a bowl for her. She took it and let the hot stone warm her chilled hands. Her hands shook as she stared into the broth, trying to calm all the emotions swirling in her.

"He's not completely gone, y'know," Butch said softly.

"Huh?"

"Your dad. He's always right there in your heart, so he's not completely gone," he said, tapping his own chest with a thumb, right over where his heart would be. "At least, that's what my ma told me as she took her last breath."

"Butch…" she started, but what could she say? She knew he had been close to his mom, having a father that committed suicide when he was growing up. 'Sorry for your loss' just seemed too cliché.

"It's a'ight, Bambi. Just..wanted you to know that I know where you're comin' from. If someone had insulted my ma, I'd have blown my top at them too," he said, awkwardly patting her shoulder for comfort. She leaned into his touch without thinking, having not felt another's touch since her father died. She had shied away from others, from men that had promised a good time, so why was Butch different? Maybe it was because he was the last solid thing from her childhood that she could mostly rely on. Even if he was an asshole at times. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He balanced his bowl on his leg and managed to one-handedly shovel a spoonful of stew into his mouth. Anya sniffed it, and while the scent was amazing, her appetite was gone again. She leaned closer to him and nibbled at her own stew. Thinking, she paused in eating and looked up at him.

"Butch? Can I ask you something?" She said.

"Sure, I guess, what you got on your mind, Bambi?" He replied nonchalantly.

"How did you know who I was at the muddy rudder?" She asked, slumping against him. His warmth felt good to her chilled body and his musky scent made her feel...safe.

"You kiddin' me? How could I not know who you were? Your hair is a dead giveaway, how many people do you see walkin around with silvery hair like yours?" He said, absentmindedly running a hand through her hair. She shrugged, deeming the statement to be true, but she felt that there was more to it than he was telling.

"I guess not.." she said, pulling away from him for a second to retrieve her canteen of whiskey. She took a swig and offered it to Butch, who in turn took an even bigger swig. He didn't grimace like she had though, and she remembered that he had been a heavy drinker in his teenage years. The rest of the meal went by in silence, both parties too intimidated by one another to say anything more.

The next morning, Anya awoke to Butch's injured arm draped casually around her midsection. She bolted upright, causing Butch to cry out in shocked pain from his arm being jerked upward.

"Oh god...did we...? Last night...?" She stammered, not remembering much from her drunken fit. Butch lay on his back, face screwed into a hard grimace as he was gripping his arm.

"Relax," he said in a tight voice, "nothing happened, you passed out on my shoulder and was shiverin', so I figured I'd keep ya warm."

"Oh thank god." Anya did relax a little bit, but was dismayed to see that she had torn open Butch's wounds in her panic.

"You sayin' you're too good for a tumble with the Butch-man?" Butch said half-heartedly.

"Come here, time for new bandages," she said, ignoring his remark and dragging him back to the river to clean and re-dress his wounds.

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking a stimpak from his bag and injecting it into his arm.

"I have a long way to go toda-" Anya started.

"We." Butch said, cutting her off.

"What was that?" She said, pausing in packing up the camp.

"We. Both of us. I'm not lettin' you go out there alone. 'Sides, I have equipment you need and I can offer more protection." He crossed his arms in front of his still bare chest. Anya pointed to Dogmeat.

"He's all the protection I need, and he can keep me warmer than any man ever could," she said, meaning for her words to sting. They had the exact opposite effect, however, instead causing a wicked grin to spread across his face.

"Warmer than any man, eh? Didn't stop ya from snugglin' up to me last night," he said. Anya couldn't keep the blush from her face, both from embarrassment and anger.

"That was different! That was the whiskey talking..."

"Nope, no amount of justification can help your case, Bambi," he chuckled and tromped down to the river with last night's dishes. Anya huffed and finished rolling up their bedding. She peeked over at Butch from the ledge they had camped on. She watched his muscles flex under his dark skin as he dunked a bowl into the water and brought it up to pour over his head, drenching his hair and face. He shivered as the water dripped over his back. Her blush deepened and something stirred within her, and she tried her hardest to squelch it.

Soon the unlikely companions were on the road, travelling on a course around D.C. to avoid the various Raider camps and Super Mutants. Butch was content in following along, whistling in that annoying way he did. He had put his jumpsuit shirt and jacket back on, but his hair was still in wild disarray from the morning's wash. Anya hated to admit it, but there was something charming about the way it fell into his eyes. She much preferred it to his normal, greaser look.

Much of the day had gone by without much interruption. They had encountered Raiders and other enemies that were relatively easy to overcome. Night was rapidly approaching as they scrambled to find some place to set up camp where they would have a good vantage point over the land. They had found what looked to be a large, flat rock. They hiked up the rocky alcove, disarming several mines they had found along the way.

"Anya, watch out!" Came Butch's warning, too late. The frag mine exploded as he rushed towards her. Everything seemed to go in slow motion as she was blasted to the ground. Shrapnel flew by her and struck her in several places, but luck was smiling on her. She had been just barely close enough to trip the bomb's sensor, but far enough for the explosion to not effect her more than knocking her down with the concussive blast ringing in her ears. Some sharp metal bits embedded into her cheek and arm as she shielded her eyes from the blast, but at least her leg hadn't been blown off.

"Shit," was all she could manage as the dust settled. Butch was at her side in a second, clutching her to his chest. With shaky hands, she returned the gesture, fisting her hands in his jacket. Her thundering heart was beginning to settle as Butch pulled away. He looked over her and noted the worst of her injuries- a few scrapes and cuts- and sighed in relief.

"Damn it, Anya. How could you not see it?" He growled, sticking her with a stimpak.

"I...I..." she stammered, embarrassed that she had let her anger almost get her killed.

"Shh, it's ok Bambi, it barely nicked ya," he said, dragging her to her feet. Her legs shook like a newborn foal's and she gripped at his arm to keep steady. He took her a little ways off, to the edge of the large flat rock that overlooked most of the valley, and sat her down as he prepared the camp. By the time he had the fire started, the shock had worn off and she was back to normal. She had pulled out strips of dried meat and a hunk of tough bread and had sandwiches made within minutes. They ate in silence and the air was tense.

"So..." Anya said, feeling uncomfortable with the silence. She didn't actually know what to say, but she had so many questions racing through her mind.

"So?" Butch said, tilting his head slightly to one side.

"What...what happened in the vault that first time I left?" She asked quietly.

"Total and utter chaos. Remember old lady Palmer?" Butch said. Anya nodded, dreading what he would tell her.

"She had a heart attack. The overseer went crazy and shot anyone that tried to leave, told the guards to do the same. I've never seen someone as blood thirsty as he was that night."

"I bet I have," Anya said absentmindedly, giving scraps to Dogmeat.

"I heard there were Dragons out here...you ever see one?" The subject change was so sudden, it threw Anya off track. She looked at him and cocked an eyebrow.

"What?" She asked, confused. What in the world was he talking about, dragons?

"Dragons. Apparently big, ugly, and meaner than hell. The caravan women would sit around the fires and tell stories of them, just wonderin' if you've seen any in your...travels," he said.

"The only thing that would fit the big, ugly, and mean description would be Super Mutants. But I doubt they could be called dragons...so you must mean Deathclaws. Those women forgot one description of them- fast. You can't outrun them, if you try you'd die within seconds," she said, matter-of-factly and was delighted by the shiver he gave. She sat back and looked at him for a second, speculating.

"What? Why do you keep staring at me like I'm a specimen in an exhibit?" He said.

"Are you still scared of RadRoaches?" she said bluntly and grinned as his face flushed.

"No! I mean...well, not anymore. We encountered them a lot in the caravan that my fear seems to be gone," he said, tossing some sticks into the fire.

"Good, because they're everywhere out here. Those and Radscorpions," she said. He nodded, as if he already knew this fact. She looked down at her scarred arms, not wanting to ask her next question, but curiosity getting the better of her.

"How did she die?" She asked reverently. Butch's head flew up and his eyes narrowed.

"Cancer. From the reactor you blew up," he said, a hard edge to his voice. Anya couldn't look at him, because somehow she had known it was her fault. Just like Old Lady Palmer's death along with so many others were on her hands. Anya shivered as a chill wind blew through camp. She hauled Dogmeat to her and he grunted at the sudden change of his position. She stroked his chocolaty fur, willing the tears to stay abated, and he was soon lost to slumber once more. She heard a sigh from Butch's place across the fire and a shuffling. She looked up as he sat beside her.

"I'm sorry, Butch. I...I wasn't thinking when I overloaded the reactor. I just had so much pressure on my shoulders, from Amata, from you. It was the first thing I had thought of, and it was stupid. I didn't want to kill the Overseer, but I ended up doing it anyway when I killed the reactor. I shot him, Butch. Shot him in cold blood, right in front of Amata. What kind of monster am I?" She said all in a rush, tears breaking free. The admittance shocked even her and she dropped her head into her hands. She hated showing weakness, especially in front of someone who used to terrorize her when they were young.

"Shit happens, Bambi. You just gotta let go of the past and keep movin' forward. It's what we all gotta do," he said quietly.

"How...philosophical of you. Never knew you had it in you, Butch," she replied, wiping her face with the palm of her hand.

"I know, right? Seems like I'm just full of surprises. But I gotta hand it to ya. I've been wanting to get outta that hell hole since you left, and you returning made it all possible," he said, digging up her canteen of whiskey and pulling out a bottle of his own. She blinked at him for a second.

"How...?"

"Looted it off a Raider back in DC, it's perfect to my tastes. Much stronger than your Brahmin piss," he said.

"Right," she said as he thrust her half-full canteen into her hands.

"To freedom," he said, holding his glass bottle up in a mock toast.

"To freedom," she echoed and clunked her canteen against his bottle. They both took swigs of the bitter liquid.

"Hey, remember at your tenth birthday party how you spit on that sweet roll Lady Palmer gave you and dared me to take it?" Butch asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"I'm sorry for nearly beatin' the crap outta ya. I was angry 'cause that stupid robot destroyed the cake..and good old dad had finally left us. May his damned soul rot in hell," Butch said, taking another swig.

"Whatever happened to you and that stupid GOAT test thing?" Anya asked, changing the subject.

"HA. I was told I was gonna be a hair dresser. Can you believe it? A _hair dresser_? Nah, man. I'm a damned Barber."

"Wow. I was told I was going to be a janitor. I think I like yours way better than mine, but now look at me. I was exiled from the only home I knew and thrust into an alien world," Anya said, replacing the cap on her canteen and setting it aside. It slid and bumped into Dogmeat's side, startling the dog. Anya reached out and pet him, the dog turning to proffer his belly for rubbing and huffed in contentment. Butch also reached out his hand and stroked the dog's fur, but his touch seemed almost reluctant. Anya took his hand and yanked him forward and placed his palm on the dog's chest. Even for being outside so much, the dog's fur was still soft. She could feel Butch's muscles relax as he realized that the dog wasn't going to jump up and rip his throat out.

Butch's hand paused as it bumped into hers. Anya paused as well and stared at his hand, wondering what was up with him. His hand began to trace a light trail up her own hand and onto her arm. His touch was soft and it confused Anya. She looked up at him but found him concentrating on his task. There was a sort of hunger that was in his expression and it sent shivers through her body. He watched as his hand made its way up her arm, as if it had a mind of its own. He paused as he reached a crossroads of where her arm disappeared behind her chin. He moved his hand to her jaw line and stroked softly until his hand reached her chin.

"Butch...?" she questioned quietly, wondering what had gotten into him all of a sudden.

"Shh, jus' let it flow, Bambi," he whispered. She was about to ask what the hell he meant when he leaned in and covered her mouth with his own. It caught her off guard, but she supposed his strange behavior hinted that this was going to happen. She sat, frozen and not knowing what to do. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she reached up hesitantly to place her hand on his neck. He pulled away slightly.

"Through all those years, I watched you grow into the woman you are now. I wanted you for myself, but my pride wouldn't ever admit to it. That's why I always terrorized you, it was a way for me to be close to you without being...well...close," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her again. This time she relaxed more under his touch and leaned into him more. She moved her hand up to rest at the back of his head, surprised at how feathery his hair was. This time she pulled away and shifted her position to where she was facing him.

"Yeah, I secretly loved you too," she said lightly. With trembling hands, she reached up and began unzipping his torn jacket. He moved forward and tasted her lips more as she worked to remove his jacket and shirt, nudging her to where she lay on her back beneath him. Once the fabric and leather was gone, she let her hands explore his chest and abdomen. He trembled beneath her touch and directed her hands lower to his growing erection. He moaned into her mouth as she kneaded him beneath the fabric of his trousers. He pulled back and ran a hand gently up her side and over her chest, intent on undressing her as she had done to him. He left a trail of kisses along her neck as he undid the many clasps and zippers on her leather armor until she lay beneath him in nothing more than her underwear.

"Jesus, Bambi. You're..beautiful," he whispered, letting his hands explore her body.

"And you, Butch...you're," she paused, trying to think of the proper term she could use to describe him. "Sexy." That was the term she decided on, though she regretted admitting it when he smirked.

"Why thank you," he said, chuckling low under his breath.

"Shut up, Butch, you're ruining the moment," she responded and dragged him down on her. He bunched her form fitting tank top up and assaulted her breasts with his tongue. She moaned and arched her back into him, feeling him smile against her skin. Her nipples pebbled under his touch as her arousal grew. She reached down and began stroking him again through his pants, startled when it all but jumped into her hand. His hand gripped her hip hard and he moaned.

"Guh," he mumbled, dropping his forehead onto her chest. After a few more seconds, he directed her hands to dragging the rest of his vault suit down over his hips, revealing the rest of him. He slipped off her underwear and added it to the pile of clothes, and now he lay atop her, both as naked as the day they were born. He slipped himself between her legs and she willfully accepted his presence there, dragging a blanket up over his back. She froze when the head of his member was positioned at her opening, suddenly unsure of herself.

"Butch...I..I don't know.." she said, voice wavering. He gently stroked her hair, trying to ease her discomfort.

"Shh. The caravan women said that the first moments will hurt, but I'll make sure I go slow," he said, kissing her deeply. When he pulled away, she nodded her consent, but sucked in a breath as he entered her.

"Relax," he whispered into her ear. "It'll be better if you relax. Tell me when the pain is gone." He held himself inside of her, trembling at the amount of self control he had to expend to not ravage her. After what seemed like forever, Anya finally nodded to tell him to go ahead. With one swift move, he plunged himself into her completely. She gripped him with her worn nails and he held still once more. He kissed her, trying to get her mind off the pain. He pulled himself out slowly, delighted when she rose her hips to receive him deeper. He pushed himself into her again, setting a gradual pace until her walls moulded to him properly. She arched her back into him as he stroked her core with his length, voicing her pleasure in a series of whimpering moans.

"Oh...god...Butch..." she muttered, voice high pitched in a breathless state. He kissed her with a newfound fervor, filling her mouth with moans of his own. His head slid deliciously against her innermost wall and he let out a shuddering moan. He pulled out a tiny bit and pushed back in, continuing this rhythm for a few seconds before pulling out further and pushing back in deeper. Their combined moans were slow and passionate, muffled on occasion by gentle kisses. His pace increased and she squirmed beneath him. She ran her hands across the vast expanse of his broad back and brought a leg up to hook around his hips. The new position allowed him to thrust deeper than she thought possible and she let out a cry of pleasure. He ground his hips against hers, creating friction that sent her writhing in pleasure. She bucked her hips against his, causing his member to get constricted within her, a moan pouring from deep within his chest. Sweat beaded on his brow from the exertion, but his pace increased still.

"Damn, Anya...you...you f-feel so...so...guh," he muttered, sentence ending with a moan. Experimentally, she clenched her walls on him and he cried out as she tightened on his sensitive shaft. He took her nipples up into his mouth in response, teasing and nipping at them to elicit pleasure cries from her. She threw her head back as he thrust into her faster and faster, bringing himself to the brink. He propped himself up and raised her hips to give him more access.

"C'mon Anya, tighten on me like you did befo-" his words were cut short by his moan as she did as he said, clenching herself on him as tight as she could. Their wild cries of pleasure echoed through the night around them. Butch whimpered as he drove himself into her faster and faster each second. Finally, with what seemed like an animalistic need to mate, he jerked his hips sharply forward spilling his seed into her, followed by tiny thrusts as his climax exploded through him. His member twitching inside of her brought her to her own climax and she dug her nails into him as the immense pleasure washed over her body. Her limbs were trembling as she brought him back down on top of her, kissing him softly. He withdrew himself and rolled off her to lie beside her, breathing heavily.

"Butch?" Anya asked, hoping her voice was quiet enough to where he didn't hear her.

"Mmh..." was his mumbled reply.

"How...how many...women...did you...?" she said, unable to finish the question.

"To tell the truth...what we just did was my first. In the caravan, they promised me to another girl without tellin' me. It pissed me off, not only the not tellin' part, but I already had my mind set on you...y'know?" he said, rolling and propping himself up on one arm to look at her. Relief washed over her, as she didn't like the idea of him having been with others the same way he was with her. She definitely wouldn't feel all that great if she was just a 'good fuck' to him, as this was the last thing she personally had to lose besides her own life. He leaned over and kissed her, a slow and passionate kiss to solidify his words.

"I...I love you...Anya," he said when he broke the kiss, in an almost hesitant voice. It was as if he was embarrassed by the admission, but she place a hand at the back of his neck and dragged him down for another kiss.

"I love you too," she whispered to him. With that, they fell into a companionable sleep, side by side. And for the first time ever, nightmares didn't plague Anya's dreams like they usually did.


	2. Megaton

Anya awoke and stretched, but froze when the spot beside her was empty. She sat up quickly, and was relieved to see Butch just making breakfast by a small fire that was struggling to maintain its composure.

"Why didn't you wake me?" She said, gathering her clothes and shoving them on hastily. She shivered slightly in the cold morning air. Dogmeat struggled to stand on his feet, his old bones aching in the cold. He wandered off into the wooded area behind camp, but Anya didn't worry, she knew he'd be back.

"Dunno, you looked peaceful. Didn't wanna wake ya," he said, watching Dogmeat amble away.

"Well, I plan on making it to Megaton today. I want to restock and rest a little while before I have to go to Old Olney," She said. He froze for a second before going back to what he was doing, shoulders slumped. Anya raised her eyebrow at him, but didn't comment.

"Quite a walk," was all he said. She didn't reply but rather followed Dogmeat's path into the woods to do her morning routine, returning with the mutt.

They ate a small breakfast of quail's eggs and dry toast in silence and packed up camp much in the same fashion. They set out just as the sun was peeking over the distant mountains and by noon they were almost half of the way to their destination.

Nightfall rolled around as they strolled into Megaton, tired and hungry. The sheriff greeted her with a tip of his hat and continued his usual patrol. Butch looked more nervous than ever, and as Anya was about to ask what his problem was, a woman's shrill voice echoed through the crater.

"Butch?" She said. She strolled from the crowd still gathered around the now deactivated atom bomb. She was a foot shorter than Anya and had visibly more curves. She looked to be a few years younger as well, with wavy brown hair and brilliant hazel eyes. She smiled as she approached, and the smile set Anya on edge. Dog meat hobbled off to Anya's housing unit and she knew the dog could get in easily on his own.

"Mia, the caravan is still here?" Butch asked, voice distant. He gazed out over the crowd, trying to see if they really were here, panic written in his features.

"Yup, we've been waiting for you to come back, and look! The elders were right, you did come! I'm so happy!" exclaimed the girl as she snaked her arm through Butch's. Anya glared at the contact as the woman thrust her hand out towards her.

"I'm Mia, first daughter of our caravan's Matriarch," she said, smile still alight on her face. Anya shook her hand curtly with a crushing grip that made the girl wince.

"Lone Wanderer," she said, taking pleasure in the way the girl's eyes widened in awe.

"You're Anya?! Three Dog talks so highly of you, you're like a celebrity! I can't believe I've met you! How do you know Butch?" She asked, excitement clear on her face at meeting Anya.

"We grew up together in vault 101. He used to be a total ass to me," Anya said, elbowing Butch in the ribs and not softly.

"You...? Butch, why didn't you say you grew up with the Lone Wanderer?!" The woman screeched, bouncing in excitement. She was so much like a child that Anya wanted to strangle her.

"Guess it never came up," he mumbled, voice strained. His eyes darted everywhere, but he refused to look at the two women. Anya sighed.

"You two obviously have some catching up to do. Butch, find yourself some new armor, your tunnel snake get up won't protect you out there. You need something light but effective. My house is right up there," she said, pointing to her house, a reward for successfully disarming the bomb.

"New armor? Are you going somewhere?" Mia said, tilting her head a little to the side, and Anya be damned if she didn't think the girl was cute in that moment.

"Olney Power works. The Brotherhood has inquired of me to get a tesla coil from there," Anya said. The girl's eyes widened more.

"But that's so far! What about the ceremony?" She said and Butch flinched.

"What ceremony?" Anya said, quirking a brow.

"Me and Butch are to be married! It's so hard finding a healthy male out here that the Elders saw it fit for us to be paired together so our race doesn't go extinct!" The girl said, and Anya felt her anger flare.

"I thought you told them no," she spat at Butch. He brought his eyes to her, but quickly looked away without saying anything and Anya bristled inwardly.

"We've already started the ceremony, but then Butch came up missing, so we've all been waiting here for his return," Mia said, gripping Butch's arm.

"Already started the ceremony?" Anya questioned, clearly confused.

"Well...yeah. It-it's kinda awkward to talk about, but we coupled on the night he disappeared. We didn't get to fini-"

"You lied to me?" Anya said, turning on Butch and trying her hardest not to raise her voice. Her posture took on an aggressive stance and he raised his hands, palms facing her in case she raised her fists against him. He knew that she wasn't the weak woman he used to torture, and he was sure she could do some serious damage if she really wanted to. And boy, did she really want to right then.

"What? No, I never lied to you! I promise Anya, I never lied to you!" Butch said, hopelessness in his voice and eyes. He took a step towards Anya, but the burning hatred in her eyes halted any further motion.

"I can't believe you...I should've known! I should've known that someone who never showed anything but hate towards me in my childhood would lie to me. God I'm so stupid. And you started acting strange as soon as I said we were coming to Megaton to restock. I should've known!" Anya shouted, fighting back tears as a hole was ripped into her heart. He began to speak again but she spun from him, throwing her hands into the air in frustration. He caught her wrist and held tight as she tried to escape from his grip. She fought against his hold, but he was still stronger than she was, thanks to the all-loving Mother Nature.

"Mia, get out of here. I'm not going back with you. Tell the elders that they can shove their traditions up their asses. I want nothing to do with you guys anymore!" Butch yelled over his shoulder.

"But...Butch..." Mia said, her entire figure drooping like a deflated balloon. When Butch didn't respond, tears sprang from the girl's eyes and she hurried away. Butch dropped on his knees beside Anya in a submissive way, trying to look up into her downcast face without success, though it was more or less to put all his weight on her arm to keep her from easily escaping.

"Anya..I promise you that nothin' happened between me and that girl. The ceremony was started, yeah, but I slipped away before I made it even close to her tent," he said, reaching out to her. She took him roughly by the wrist and twisted his arm, rendering him useless as he fell completely to the ground.

"Gah! Why would you do that?!"

"Don't...don't touch me," she muttered, wrenching her hand from his as if his skin had burned her.

"Damn it, Anya, would you listen to me!" Butch shouted, picking himself up and rubbing his arm. "Nothin' happened! I didn't even know her! I still don't know her! How can I get it through your thick stubborn skull that nothin' happened!"

"Just..leave me alone Butch," she whispered. He rammed his fists into the building beside him.

"Not until you listen to me, damn it!," He yelled. Anya sighed and glanced at him.

"I am listening, but I wasn't there. I don't know what to believe, Butch," she said simply.

"Believe me. I can't l-love a woman I don't know. And you know how hard it is for me to spill out what I'm feelin', right?" He said. Yes, she did know how hard it was for the stubborn fool to tell how he felt. It was a manly pride thing, but it was also something else with Butch. Growing up without a father, he always had to be the tough guy, the man of the house. But now he was like her and had nothing to really live for except their beliefs.

"Yeah, I guess," was her lame reply.

"Move it along kids, you're making a scene and disrupting my town," Lucas Simms, the town's self-appointed sheriff, said.

"Sorry, man, we'll take it off the streets," Butch told him. He took Anya's hand and led her off the main street, asking where her house was. She led him there and nearly succeeded in slamming the door in his face...if only his reflexes weren't so quick. He stuck a booted foot between the door and frame just in time and pushed his way into her dilapidated house. She stood awkwardly by the bed, unsure if she should ask him to sit. There was hardly anything in the place, as she never was around much to stay for an extended amount of time. The only furniture in the place was the bed, a small metal desk, and a crookedly standing chair, and off to the side was a separate room serving as a bathroom. Stairs led to a possibly dangerous loft that she never used out of fear that it would collapse under even a bird's weight. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Butch sighed and muttered a curse under his breath.

"I'm serious, Anya. Nothin' happened between us. I didn't want her, but she was forced on me anyway, so I left. Simple as that," he said, frustration easing its way into his features.

"I don't know if I can trust you, Butch. So far in my life, the only person I've ever been able to trust is myself. And Dogmeat." The dog's head lifted from his mound of cushions when he heard his name, and his tail thumped on the sheet metal floor.

"I don't know how to show you that you can trust me. Hell, I will take you outside right now and...m-make love to you..right in front of everyone if I have to." Anya couldn't help but laugh at the blush that rose and spread across Butch's face. No, he definitely wasn't one for public displays of affection. She sighed as her laughter edged away.

"Come on...let's go get food and get some rest," she said, leading him to the small place called Moriarty's Saloon. People were still milling about, and Anya wondered if any of them were from the caravan. Judging by the glares some of them gave, she guessed they were. She sat heavily in the stool at the bar. She ordered something light and pushed the bits around her plate when she heard a distinct snuffling behind her and turned her head to see Mia sitting in the corner, surrounded by people. What was left of Anya's appetite fled her and she turned back, glaring at her food and jabbing it viciously with her fork-like utensil.

"What did those poor scorpion bits ever do to you?" Butch asked lightly from beside her. She resumed stabbing them with the fork and, through her rage, popped one into her mouth. It was actually good, but it didn't help any to bring back her good mood or appetite. She consumed another for good measure, letting Moriarty know that his food wouldn't go to waste. Ever since her own dad died, he's taken to fathering her, eyeballing her to make sure she ate her meals like a good little girl. It was maddening, sometimes, but it was always nice to have a hot meal ready for her whenever she needed it.

"Everything," was all she said. Butch reached over and stilled her fidgeting hand. She looked at him and quirked an eyebrow, pulling her hand from his. He was adamant and placed it back over hers. He gripped her wrist when she tried to pull away, and he tugged her towards him. He placed a hand at the back of her neck and dragged her face to his. He kissed her, a slow hesitant kiss, and she tensed. Mia was sitting right there, watching the entire thing, and Anya would be lying if she said she didn't want the girl to see. After a few seconds she relaxed into his grip and she kissed him back fervently. He broke away and held her to him and she clung to him. He dropped the correct amount of caps onto the counter to pay for their meals and stood. Anya protested as he hauled her to her feet, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"I hear that real men of the old days used to carry their women off into the sunset," he said. She hardly had time to squeak out another protest when she went flying into the air and was draped ungracefully on his shoulder.

"Butch, put me down," she growled at him, slamming her fist into his back.

"Nu-uh, but keep that up, I need a good back massage," he said, then cursed as she tried to kick at him. He held her legs firmly in place and carried her out of the saloon, whistling in a haughty manner. Anya caught a glimpse of Mia's stricken face and felt bad for the girl. It wasn't her fault, not really. It was her mother that had promised the barbarian to her. Anya struggled more but soon gave up as she found it wasn't doing anything. He carried her like that until she had to unlock the door to her apartment-like house. Dogmeat yapped happily at seeing them and Butch proffered stolen goods to the mongrel. Once Dogmeat was settled back into his corner with his tidbits, Butch turned to Anya, who stood by the door. He held out a hand to her and she stared at it.

"What?" she asked.

"Well...real men make love to their women after carryin' them off, right?" His voice took on a sudden seductive and husky tone. Anya's heart thudded in her chest and she looked away as warmth spread across her face and pooled at the bottom of her stomach. He sauntered over to her and reached past her to lock the door. He moved closer to her and she retreated until eventually her back was completely against the sheet metal wall. He moved closer still, until they were almost touching.

"Butch..." she said, about to turn him down. She was tired and frankly still a little heartbroken.

"Anya...beautiful Anya," he muttered, stringing his hands through her silvery locks. "You have nothin' to fear...I'm just' here to love and cherish you."

He kissed her, a soft and unhurried kind of kiss. He was testing to see if she would push him away and be done with him. She even brought her hands up to his chest, meaning to deny him, but the shove never came. Instead she found her hands laced in his feathery hair, pulling him closer. At that point, the kiss grew beyond hesitant and shy to something more wild and fierce. Suddenly, Anya froze. She pushed at him and struggled against him.

"N-no.." she said, remembering why she was mad at him. Their struggles were cut short by a rusted railing outside snapping under someone's weight. A feminine voice cursed not too long after. Encircling her with his arms, Butch reached over and flicked the tattered curtain aside. Mia sat up on the small hill just outside Anya's house, looking as though she had just fallen over.

"Shoulda known she would follow us here," Butch muttered and bent Anya backwards over the desk. His kiss had no emotion, and with wide eyes, Anya observed him glaring pointedly at Mia. The girl screamed in rage and stormed away, nearly tripping on the rocks in her furious fleeing. He pulled away and chuckled darkly, releasing Anya. She had to catch herself on the desk, else she would have tumbled to the floor. Butch stepped to the door, his head down.

"Where are you going?" Anya asked grimly.

"I wanna find out more about this...place...we're goin' to. And you obviously don't wanna be in my company, so I'll jus' leave ya be," he muttered. He left then and Anya didn't bother trying to stop him.

Morning rolled around and Anya woke, finding herself curled up in the corner of her bed, still wearing her leather armor. She was stiff, old wounds making themselves known, but she felt strangely refreshed. She looked around but didn't find Butch. Frowning, she didn't recall him returning the night before. She rose and stretched, washing her face in the basin-like sink that was in the other room. She slung her sniper rifle over her back and left, making sure to leave some snacks out for Dogmeat. She left the door unlocked so the old dog could follow when he pleased.

She walked to the middle of the cratered city and looked around. From this vantage point, she could see just about everything. The atom bomb had been removed, much to the church's disgruntlement, and the water had been purified. She trudged up the steep incline and entered Moriarty's saloon. Colin nodded to her and yelled out her usual order. She slunk up the stairs to the spot she normally sat when she was in Megaton besides the bar and stopped two steps from the top.

Mia had Butch backed into the far corner and was lip-locked with him. Anya bristled and curbed a very unlady-like snarl. In a flash, she was wrenching the girl away and had Butch held to the wall by his collar. Anger and hurt flashed in her fiery eyes, and as Butch began to speak, she interrupted him.

"I don't ever want to see your face around here. Take your precious caravan and leave my city, Butch," she growled, voice dangerously low. She flung herself back from him as if he had burned her. One, two, three steps back and she turned from him, shuffling down the stairs. Apparently everyone had heard her and they did their best to avert their eyes from her. No one messed with a spitting-mad woman that had a .50 caliber sniper rifle at her back. Colin halted her by thrusting a plate of steaming food at her. She paused for a second before accepting the plate. He nodded and moved from behind the counter in the direction of Mia and Butch, no doubt planning on tossing them out. She had grown fond of the older man over the many years she'd known him, and she silently thanked him. She retreated to her home and let Dogmeat out, putting the plate she'd pilfered from Colin's on the floor for the mutt to enjoy. When he finished his business, she locked the door behind him, crawling back into bed and pulling the blankets up over her head, willing the sudden tension headache to go away.

Several hours later, it was dark out. A noise outside alerted Dogmeat and he growled, looking at the door. Anya propped herself up and pulled her Blackhawk pistol close. A bang on the door made both her and Dogmeat jump and the beast growled louder, half standing and half crouching.

"A-An-Anya, open the door," came Butches voice, slurred heavily by alcohol.

"Dogmeat, shh, there's just a moron at the door," Anya said, settling herself back into her bed. More bangs echoed through the room and the last one was a sound of a pole breaking. A heavy thud sounded at the bottom of the door, followed by laughter. Anya guessed that he must have leaned on one of the rusted railings like Mia and upon the old metal giving yield to his weight, fell against her door.

"Me 'n Enrique aren't goin' nowhere until you open thish door, shweet cheeksh," Butch muttered, giggling like a maniac. Anya sighed and stood, and paused when Dogmeat looked at her as if she herself were intoxicated. Her anger at him returned, and she sat, but then stood again, knowing she shouldn't leave him out in the cold in this state.

"Lucas will have his head if I leave him out there, and there's this whole controversy about hypothermia you know," she tried to justify to Dogmeat. In two long strides, she was at the door, pulling it open cautiously. Butch slid ungracefully to the ground and stared up at her with wide eyes. She was confused. He had mentioned another person, yet she saw nobody else there. She wrestled the large, half full bottle from Butch and sniffed it. Spiced Rum, enough to make a horse drunk three times over. She took the bottle by the neck and threw it as far as she could, earning a gasp from Butch.

"No! Enrique! You've killed him, Witch!" He shouted. Anya rolled her eyes and dragged him inside by his arms. She managed to shove him into the bed and stood back, observing her work. He was slumped in an awkward position, but he didn't seem to care. He was beyond reasoning now and already lost in the realms of unconscious sleep. Anya locked the door, grabbed a blanket, and retreated to the upper floor of her house. It groaned dangerously under her, and she found herself slumped against the wall on the balcony across from where Butch lay. Sleep wasn't far off from her, and in no time she herself had nodded off with Christ, Butch, what've you done to yourself on her mind.

She awoke when first light streamed in through the fogged windows. Shivering, she tried to work the kink out of her neck and stood. Butch was no longer on the bed and she stepped carefully downstairs to look for him. She found him leaning against the wall next to the toilet, frightfully pale and almost dead-looking.

"I have never drank so much in my life," he admitted as he heard her approach, followed by him hunching over the toilet and dry-heaving. She sat by him and put her chilled hands on his forehead when he leaned back. She knew from past hangovers that it felt delightful, and he grunted in appreciation.

"Why would you do this, drink yourself into oblivion like that?" She asked, not looking at him, though she knew his eyes were closed. He was trembling under her touch and felt feverish, even having stripped himself to nothing more than a wife beater tank top and boxers. Anya guessed it to be at least 45 degrees Fahrenheit, and she was freezing, but he was burning up. She suspected more than alcohol was at play, but she didn't know for sure.

"I don't...really remember, but my head and stomach is payin' for it," he managed. He heaved into the toilet again, but the contents of his stomach had long since been expelled. Anya honestly felt bad for him as he sat back and groaned.

"God, please make it stop...I dunno how much more I can take," he whimpered.

"You did this to yourself, so you have to deal with the consequence," she muttered. She was thankful that either he hadn't heard her or he chose to ignore her choice in words. He shivered now, properly cold in the frigid weather and she rose to get him a blanket and draped it over the front of him.

"Thanks," he said tiredly.

"How long have you been up?"

"Since before sunrise." She sighed and helped him to stand, shouldering him and half-dragging him back to the bed. She placed a trash can beside him should his stomach find something else to eradicate and left him in peace, taking Dogmeat out with her so the old grunt wouldn't disturb his rest.  
>She milled about the town, earning glares from each member of the caravan that she saw. She ignored them, since she knew they'd never try to do anything in a town that she all but ruled. She could've easily chosen to blow the town up, but Lucas gave her the task of disarming the atom bomb on good faith. His faith and trust was put in the right person, and as such, she was pretty much the town's savior and celebrity. No, none of the caravan would raise a hand towards her. If they did, they would be shot down without so much as a second thought.<p>

She sat in the middle of the town, drinking her cola and watching the people scurry about. There was something relaxing about being able to sit and...well...relax, for once. Her life was filled with one obstacle after another, and many of those obstacles brought pain, if not fortune. After a short while, she finished her cola and hiked back to her home with a jug of purified water for Butch. He was soundly asleep and she checked the trash can to find nothing in it. She left the jug by him and turned on her modified Pipboy. She had tinkered with it for many years, managing to fit the complicated technology into a smaller camera-like case. It was more like a PDA now, and she was proud of her work. She checked up on which 'quests' she had left, but found only one or two minor things left to do besides travelling to Old Olney. She sighed and wondered what she would do in the world when she wasn't needed anymore, when the legacy of the Lone Wanderer would end and she would all but cease to exist.

Butch groaned and stirred, slowly sitting up in the bed and putting a hand to his face. She knew he must have a monster headache, but besides a stimpak she couldn't afford, she didn't know what to do for him. She wanted to save the few remaining stimpaks for inevitable injuries in the future, but she debated giving him one to ease his discomfort. Sighing, she stood and walked to him, thrusting the jug of water to him, of which he accepted gratefully. He sipped at it, happy to find that his stomach was done with its torture.

"Thanks," he said. He replaced the lid on the jug and placed it on the floor.

"No problem. You need to keep drinking, but not too fast. You'll get dehydrated if you don't," she responded quietly. He began to nod, but winced at the motion. Sighing again, she went to her pack and opened it, dismayed to find that she had only two stimpaks left. Maybe she could do something for Moira in trade for some supplies...

"No," Butch said, sensing her intent. "Don't waste them."

"They're mine, I can do what I want with them," she said, now determined to go against his wishes. She took one and grabbed his arm, jabbing it roughly into his arm before he could protest. He grunted at the brutality in which she stuck him, a bruise welling up by the time she removed the needle from his flesh, but sighed as relief washed over his features. It was only temporary relief. But it'll keep him from complaining, she told herself, but she knew she was lying to herself. She didn't want him to be in pain, and she knew he drank that much because of her. He stood and stumbled as blood rushed to his head. She helped to steady him and he asked her to bring him outside for fresh air, dressing him in more proper public attire. She steadied him whenever needed as they walked through the town. Soon, Butch was tired out and he sat at a bar-like place.

"Anya, I don't feel so good," he said, slurring his words. His speech was as if he were still drunk off his ass, but she knew he should be sober by now.

"Butch?" She said quietly. He didn't respond, instead toppling off the stool and landing heavily on the ground. She jumped off her own stool and knelt beside him, putting a hand to his forehead again. The fever was still in place and that alone worried her. Panic began settling in when a single stream of blood streamed from his nose.

"Hey, is he okay?" A stranger asked.

"No, could you go get Moira? And tell her to bring her Rad kit, I suspect he's gotten radiation poisoning from the Rum he drank last night," Anya answered, hauling Butch to where he was in a sitting position, slumped against the wall of the bar. The man scurried off and Moira returned with him minutes later. She confirmed Anya's suspicion and asked where he'd gotten the Rum. Anya didn't know, but she had even more suspicions. A few of the town men picked Butch up and carried him off to the infirmary so Moira could examine him better.

Lucas agreed that it was foul play when they found that the bottle belonged to the caravan's supply.

Days passed and Butch was still sick with fever. Moira tried many different remedies, and on the morning of the fourth day, his fever finally broke. Anya was laying in a small cot not far from his when he awoke. She'd been exhausted with worry and stress to the point where she was passed out before her head even hit the pillow. Butch stood slowly, using the walls for support when his legs failed him. He reached out and touched her silver hair, running the strands through his fingers for a brief moment before she woke. When she saw him standing, she jumped from the bed and nearly knocked him off his feet in the process.

"Butch!"

"Anya!" He replied, his weird sense of humor kicking in almost immediately. She threw her arms around him and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Wow, if you react like this, I need to drink more often!" She pulled away and slugged him in the arm. He yelped and laughed at the sour expression on her face.

"That crazy bitch poisoned you," she said. His smile faded from his face and he stared at her.

"Mia? How?"

"You don't remember anything?" She helped him to sit on the edge of his bed when Moira brought some water to him. Moira was excited to see her remedies working, but she sensed that they wanted to be alone.

"All I remember is making a huge mistake and getting shit-faced drunk because of it. A stranger bought me a bottle of rum, and I remember it tasting off, but not caring one bit."

"Yup, one of the caravan men gave it to you. Mia bribed him with sex to kill you with radiation. Nearly succeeded, but Moira's kinda a scientist and stuff and she managed to cure you. With my research, I might add, so I kinda helped too, only I did it in the past." He gave her look that told her he thought she was slightly insane. But behind that look, she could see something else, something that honest to whatever God existed scared her senseless- love and devotion.

"Well, then. I owe it to you and Moira for saving my life," he said, kissing her softly. "Though, I think I'll only say thank you to Moira."

Arm in arm, they left Moira's place and wandered around Megaton.

Without warning, Anya was jerked away from Butch and cold steel of a gun was thrust into her jaw. Women screamed and men shouted, but all that did was cause the person to pull back the hammer. Anya's heart pounded, and she instinctively knew who it must be. Butch found his voice first, using it to form words rather than yells.

"Mia...put the gun down," he said, his voice low and he was trying his hardest to be soothing. He was unconvincing however, as the girl just shoved the gun harder against Anya's jaw. Anya could see geniune fear written in his features, and in turn that made her fearful of what could happen. Would this be the end? All the hard work she did to make the world better, the legacy she made for herself, completely destroyed by a crazy woman who didn't know when she lost?

"No! Not until you promise yourself to me, and no lies this time!" Mia shouted, voice shrill and uncontrolled.

"What're you, 17?" Anya said under her breath, earning the pistol to be jammed painfully into her neck.

"What, like you promised yourself to the guy who poisoned me? I never promised myself to you in the first place. The elders promised me to you, but I had my mind set on finding Anya the entire time. Now I'll ask again, please put the gun down before you do something I know you'll end up regretting," Butch said. Anya sensed his serenity, as he didn't use chopped words like regrettin' or somethin'. The girl's grip wavered for a few short seconds, as if his words were getting to her, but she quickly recovered.

"No! Your word! I want it now!" The girl was insane. Her hand shook and Anya took controlled breaths. Anya closed her eyes taking slow and steadying breaths before she sprung into action. She grabbed the girl's gun hand and swung her other elbow around to connect it with the side of Mia's head. Her blow hit home right after a shot rang out. Mia was shot, blood spurting out of the side of her head. The bullet was not stopped though, and the slug went clean through and continued on- straight through Anya's arm. Luck was smiling on her for the second time that month, as the pointed tip of the bullet skimmed around the bone of her upper arm and tore through naught but muscle. Anya was caught by surprise, silencing the startled yelp she held at the tip of her tongue. A second shot rang out, this one from the Blackhawk Mia held as the now dead girl's muscles spasmed. A second bullet rattled Anya, cutting through the muscle between her neck and shoulder. This time her howl was not contained, and the momentum from the higher caliber sent her spinning away from Mia. Her arm fell limply to her side as she pitched to the ground. She was caught by Lucas and Butch dropped to crouch in front of her, protecting her, should more bullets fly.

A blood-curdling scream erupted from the balcony of the Church of Atom. The woman raced down the platform, screaming at the top of her lungs about murderous pigs. She cradled Mia's still form and screeched like a wounded rabbit as blood poured onto her gown. Anya, with black spots dancing in her vision, looked around. Nobody else made a move towards the now-dead girl and Colin rushed to her.

"Anya, shit, I'm sorry I hit you, I did what I had to, I didn't mean for it to hit you as well. I should have waited, I should have," the man stammered in that thick Irish accent of his.

"It's alright, Moriarty. I've had worse," she said, smiling weakly. The woman, Mia's mother Anya presumed, stood now. She looked around and screeched as everyone stared awkwardly.

"You traitors! She was one of your own!" She screamed at her caravan. "And you! You murdered my baby, a child! All she wanted was a worthless mutt's love, and you murdered her!"

"Now that's enough!" Lucas yelled over the woman, setting Anya down to stand. "Anya is a hero among this town! Your girl was about to commit the same crime, and Colin did what had to be done. You and your caravan are hereby banned from Megaton and are never to return, do you understand me? Anya is one of our own, and all your girl has done is cause trouble by seducing every man possible."

"Liar! My baby was an angel, she would never do such a thing!" The woman screeched. The black spots now threatened to completely cover her vision and Anya tried to control her breathing. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, trembling.

"Anya?" Butch asked warily. "Mr. Simms, deal with this later. I...I'm too weak right now to pick her up and she needs a doctor, quick."

"N-no..I'm fi-fine," Anya protested. Her vision wavered and went out, her body going limp as Lucas had Colin pick her up.

Anya wove in and out of consciousness throughout her "operation". All it really was that they were doing was cauterizing her wounds and stitching them. Once she awoke to Doc Church prodding painfully against the muscle in her neck and she cried out. Butch was there in an instant and she focused on his quiet comforting, focusing on his voice before she slipped into darkness again.

The next time she woke, she was in the familiar surroundings of her home. She lay on her back in her bed. Butch sat beside the bed, his head resting on his arms crossed at her side. His breathing was heavy and even, a sign that suggested he was asleep. She tried to move, but pain lanced up her neck and down her arm, causing a gasp to escape from her. Butch jolted awake, rubbing his eyes before realizing Anya was awake. He stood quickly, knocking the battered stool over.

"Anya? How do you feel?" He asked, taking her uninjured hand in his own.

"Like...I've been shot," she said wryly, a giggle bubbling up at her horrible joke. Pain shot through her again and she sobered instantly.

"Jesus, I never thought that...girl...would've been crazy enough to do it. Before I got drunk off my ass, she told me she'd do it if I didn't promise myself to her. I never thought she'd actually..I thought I was going to lose you..." he broke off.

"Aww, you're getting all choked up over me? How...touching, but I'm too stubborn to die," Anya said, her voice strained but hinting at a joke. He smiled hesitantly and squeezed her hand. She reached out and stroked his feather-light hair without much thought. When he looked up, he could see a tenderness in her eyes that had never been there before.

And he knew it was the beginning of something amazing.


End file.
